


In the Closet

by Amelita



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M, Suicide, life after death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelita/pseuds/Amelita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one commits suicide because they want to die</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He left him everything.

But that wasn’t the way it felt to Akihito.

He felt very much as if Asami had left him nothing. Nothing at all. There was the money and the cars and the penthouse, the clubs and the companies and the hotels. They all belonged to him now. But that was the thing about receiving a gift you never wanted. You could give someone everything, but if it was wasn’t they wanted; it was still nothing.

Akihito paced the empty apartment. Looking for something.

Asami couldn’t have left him nothing. Wouldn’t have.

But the thing was, Asami had never really LIVED in this penthouse. He had inhaled and exhaled and ate and shit and pissed. But that wasn’t living. Living in a place meant you filled it up, with your things and your memories. Pictures and mementos and artifacts. Something left behind that said ‘I was here! I existed!”

But there was nothing. Nothing but silence.

Akihito paced again, making another round. He had missed something, he was sure of it.

The only things in the apartment were those left by the previous owner and Akihito. Akihito had left his mark all over the apartment. Aprons in the kitchen and silly magnets. Pictures in the dining room. A playstation and dozens of DVDs littered the living room. The bathroom held his funny bottles and sponges and toothbrush and Panda mug. Even Asami’s bedroom. The throwpillows on the bed and the warm quilt. Akihito had bought those. Not Asami.

There was nothing. 

Akihito had been left behind, with _nothing_ as his prize.

His eyes burned with unshed tears and his fists clenched. Screams rose in his throat but they stuck there, burning like bile. He gritted his teeth and dug his nails into his palms.

And then he noticed the one door he had not opened.

The closet.

He opened the door and breathed in the scent like a sigh of relief. It was as strong as if Asami had been waiting for him on the other side of the door and folded him into his strong arms. He could smell the scent of Dunhills and sandalwood, the fragrance of polished wood and leather and under it all, the essence of the man. That unique, distinctive scent that had been his and his alone. 

Akihito’s smile was radiant. Asami had left him something. 

In the closet. 

It was a slow, years long collection of exactly what made him the person he was. Akihito’s blue eyes stared around wonderingly at all of the shirts and ties and coats and slacks and belts and loafers. Bits and pieces of the man who had left them behind. To anyone else, all those suits might have looked the same, but not to Akihito. He recognized the jet black one from the day they met and the brown tie that shouldn’t have matched but somehow did. He recognized the swirly tie and the charcoal suit from the banquet where Akihito had been disguised as a waiter. 

The vest and the holsters Asami had been wearing when he saved him from Fei Long the first time. 

The paisley print tie from the second time. The time he had held out his hand to Akihito and asked if he was ready for what's to come.

He hadn’t been. He hadn’t been ready at all. 

He held that tie in his hands and stroked the impossibly soft silk. They always seemed so soft. But Akihito knew better than anyone how strong they were. How many times had that damned man tied him up with his expensive silk ties?

And he had kept them. He had kept them all.

Akihito’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked toward the back of the tie rack where the more mangled ties resided. The speckled one Asami had tied him with at the club when he had found him snooping. That weird tie-dyed one he had tied him up in the shower with. It was ruined, utterly ruined, with ripped seams and covered in watermarks. But Asami had kept it. Even back then…. he had kept it.

Deeper into the closet were the less often seen pieces. Like the less often seen pieces of Asami. A few pairs of jeans. Yes, he had worn them, occasionally. On the island. Akihito took down one of his polos. A dark navy blue one Asami had worn with the collar popped up. Akihito had made fun of him. Had called him a fratboy yakuza. Aki had gotten butthurt for that. Asami had pinned him down and made him scream, all the while smirking, with his stupid collar popped. 

Akihito held the empty shirt in his hands.

Never again would Asami fill it with his broad shoulders and his muscular back and his strong arms. The shirt would be empty. Always.

Somehow Akihito couldn’t stand the thought.

So he put it on and tried to fill it.

It was much too big.

The sleeves went down to his elbows and the shoulders drooped and the hem fell to his knees. It was still empty.

Akihito was still empty.

And in the moment, he realized. Asami wasn’t coming back.

He would never stand in his closet and pick out a suit and tie, a suit and tie that Akihito would tease him about.

_“Why do you take so much time to pick, they all look the same anyway?”_

And Asami would smirk at him, because he knew that Akihito knew, that his suits and ties were like a barometer. If you knew how to read them, they could tell you more about his mood than anything else. There was a charcoal grey one with stripes that reminded Akihito of a stormcloud. When he put that one on, you knew that shit was going down. After Akihito had moved into the penthouse, he started to favor patterned ones, brighter colors. Akihito had noticed. But his favorite was still the paisley print tie. He always put that one on when Akihito lay utterly wasted in their bed, paralyzed from an all night sex marathon. He would tie it with a twinkle in his eye and a whistle on his lips. Well, as close to a whistle as Asami ever got. He never made a sound but you could tell it was there, in his eyes. 

But never again. Now they were just ties.

Hanging limply on a tie rack. 

Never again. 

Akihito fell to his knees, clutching the polo to his chest, the paisley print tie crumpled in his hand, wadded between his fingertips and he pressed it to his mouth and stifled his screams with it. The pain overpowered him, throwing him to the floor where all he could do was writhe in it. His limbs jerking and thrashing. For a moment, he thought he might be having a heart attack. That his heart had burst in his chest and he would surely die from it. The pain was that intense. But slowly, it faded and the numbness returned.

He was disappointed to see that he continued to breathe. To inhale and exhale, to eat and shit and piss. But not to live. Never again.

Akihito lay crumpled on the closet floor. Empty. Surrounded by all that was left of the man he loved. 

-


	2. Chapter 2

-

 

Akihito’s sister had been very afraid of the closet. She always wanted someone to check it for monsters. And even then, she could only sleep if the door was closed and a chair was pressed against it.

Akihito was just the opposite. 

He liked his closet. He spent a lot of time in it… And yesssss, he got the irony.

When he was a kid, he would close himself inside the small space. It made him feel safe and protected. He would write and daydream and play in his hideyhole.

As the days passed, endlessly bleeding one into the other, Akihito started to spend more and more time in Asami’s closet. It was his secret. To the rest of the world, he appeared to be dealing very well with Asami’s death. But then again, no one in his life had ever really known what Asami was to him, so they had no idea how much he was hurting. He hid it well. And they didn’t know to look for it. What started as an occasional indulgence soon turned into something far more unhealthy. He knew that it wasn’t good for him. But it wasn’t something he had control over. He couldn’t stand to be in the penthouse. Couldn’t stand the cold empty rooms. He would stand in them and all of the giant white walls felt like that were falling on him, closing in on him until he couldn’t breathe. 

It was only in Asami’s cramped, cluttered closet that Akihito felt like he could breathe. He felt safe in there. Soon he was living in it. The rest of the apartment was just the hallway to get to Asami’s closet. Black electric cords snaked under the closed door. Cords to a mini fridge and a laptop and a tv. He had made himself a bed in there. A tatami mat and a nest of Asami’s clothes. His soft ones, the undershirts and boxers. There was no vent in there and it was warm so he didn’t need a blanket. He curled up and listened to music, watched all the movies they had seen together. 

But it wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t enough.

So he began putting Asami’s clothes on, wearing them inside the stifling closet. But they were too big and it was too hot and he had to take them off again. 

The only thing he could wear comfortably were the ties. He would slide them up around his neck and try to tie them in the perfect Windsor knot Asami had favored, imagining his long, strong fingers touching the silk in the exact places Akihito’s did. He would tighten them up securely around his neck, imagining how they had felt around Asami’s throat. His favorite one was the paisley one. The one Asami had worn to take him from Hong Kong. That was the one Akihito chose to wear today. He tightened it more, closing his eyes and remembering how Asami’s fingers had felt around his neck on the island. 

He remembered the words he had said so clearly, it was as if Asami was standing in the closet with him.

 _“You are mine”_ he had said, _“I am the only one who can stop you from breathing.”_

He tightened the tie more, pulling on it harder so that it choked him, starting to cut off his airway, distracting him from the pain of his memories. Akihito had begged him for more, he begged for Asami to tighten his grip. As long as it was him, Akihito hadn’t cared what he did to him. Whether he strangled him or killed him. He hadn’t cared. As long as it was by Asami’s hand. That was how much he loved him. And now he was gone.

And all that was left was the empty penthouse and a little boy hiding in the closet.

He wanted him back so much it hurt. He wanted him to take him in his arms like he had on the island, take him in his arms and mess him up. Erase all the bad memories and take away the pain. He wanted him to mark him, he remembered the way Asami had tenderly kissed the bruises around his neck after he had choked him.

_“Every time you see it, remember the time when you were held by me.”_

Akihito tried to tighten the silk around his neck more, to leave a mark. Dark purple bruises that would remind him of Asami. He wanted to see the bruises again. He wanted to feel his hands around his throat once more. Even if it was only in his mind.

He couldn’t get it tight enough. His hands, they weren’t strong enough. 

There was a pole overhead. It was strong, metal and mounted to the studs. It would hold.

He scooted over the stool Asami kept in his closet to sit on, when he put his shoes on and climbed up on top of it. He tied a noose in the silk and tied the end tightly to the pole, pulling on it with his hand.

It would hold. 

He placed his head inside the loop and bent his knees until it tightened around his throat. It felt good. He closed his eyes and relished the sensation, the tightness around his neck. It had always been sensitive; easily tickled, and easily bruised. Many a pairs of lips he had battled away to keep from leaving their mark on his neck. But Asami was different. Every mark, every bruise, every bite. He had welcomed them. Relished each and every one. He had enjoyed the dominance, giving himself over to a muscular pair of hands, to a will more powerful than his own, a force that had the ability to take his life or grant him mercy. 

Akihito had been enraptured, in awe of Asami as he had choked him on that dark night. Had loved him even as he found himself scared for his very life because of those strong hands, so much stronger than his own.

He coughed and wheezed and bent his knees more, putting more of his weight on the tie, wanting to feel it tighten even further. In his minds eye, it was Asami’s hands around his throat now. 

Beads of perspiration scooted down his forehead and his skin tingled with terror. Terror … and excitement. The downy hair at the base of his scalp stood on end. He had felt like this with Asami, utterly terrified and turned-on at once. It was exhilarating. He remembered Asami’s expression, the intensity he gazed down at him as he imposed his will on his body by sheer force, violating him and cutting off his very source of life, his breath. He had refused to let Akihito given in to his fear, his trauma, his bad memories….

_“Hurry up and forget.”_

The words rang in his ears as if Asami had spoken next to him. His knees sagged weakly out from underneath him. Air became more scarce by the moment and light-headedness claimed Akihito’s consciousness. Feelings of affection and peacefulness became entangled with his overwhelming pain and emptiness. It occurred to him that he was starting to pass out, that he needed to get his feet underneath him and stand up.

Memories became entangled, sensations merging in association. He remembered the first year he had spent with Asami. The heady game of cat and mouse they had played; dancing around each other, circling ever closer. The rapid physical descent into decadence. Oh, what glorious times, so full of self-discovery, physical and emotional enlightenment, awash in new desires and tastes for what had been forbidden…. It had delighted him as much as it had frightened him. Memories intertwined with one another like naked limbs twisting under covers and soon he remembered when he was in the swimming pool, when he was drowning, fighting for air as he sank, paralyzed by his terror and unable to swim. He had drowned. But Asami had pulled him out, pressed the water from his chest and breathed his own air back into Akihito’s lungs. He had fought for him, when he couldn’t. Asami had always fought for him when he was unable to fight for himself.

But Asami was gone now. 

His strong man. His iron will. Taken by a coward’s bullet in his back.

Akihito’s face was turning blue, his struggling losing momentum. The truth was, he had already given up fighting for his own life and continued simply breathing because that was what he was supposed to do. Now, he hadn’t even the energy to do that.

He didn’t want to live with this emptiness inside him. Not without Asami. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to die; he just didn’t want to live anymore. 

He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted to simply fade away into the emptiness, right here, surrounded by all that was left of the man he loved. 

With the last burst of energy he kicked over the stool, his full body weight coming down on the silk tie and the metal rod with a jerk. The bar strained, bending just a bit...

It held.

Akihito’s body dangled from it like a puppet on a string and occasionally he twitched as his muscles spasmed and dying brain cells randomly fired. A calm flowed through him, an acceptance that he was about to die, and thankful that he could do it on his terms. There was an incredible burning pain for a moment, but the sensations suddenly were without name. Cognizance and recognition escaped from Akihito’s suddenly vacuum-like consciousness and he was left empty.

Death claimed him just as powerfully and ruthlessly as Asami had so long ago.

And just like that, it was over. 

 

-


	3. Chapter 3

Moments later, Akihito’s limp body dropped like a stone into waiting arms. He lay panting, as his throat reintroduced itself to air, his lungs burning and his chest heaving. Strong arms closed over him and Akihito whirled around.

His blue eyes boggled.

“A-Asami?”

His golden eyes were sad as he stroked Akihito’s cheek.

Akihito threw himself against him, knocking him back onto the closet floor, grabbing his collar, “Where have you been?!”

Asami just looked down him, expressionless, his dark hair cascading over his brow. Akihito wanted to shake him. He felt so angry, “Didn’t you know? I was waiting for you to come home. Waiting and waiting and you never did. You left me all alone!”

Tears flowed from his eyes and he finally yielded, allowing Asami to bring him in closer, the back of his strong hand came up to rub Akihito’s sore neck, pressing his head to his broad chest as Akihito curled up against him. It rumbled as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, Akihito. I’m so sorry.”

“Hic- Hic- I could only… I could only wait for you. But you never came. You never came for me.”

Akihito clung to him like a child, burying his face in Asami’s neck, breathing in deeply. Asami’s scent. Was it for real? He prayed that it wouldn't be a dream. That he wouldn't wake, alone again in the closet. His giant, warm hand rubbed Akihito’s back, trailing up and down over the knobs of his spine. 

Asami’s voice was sad, thick with tears, “You deserved so much better. You had your whole life in front of you. Why did you do it Akihito?”

He said simply, “All I could think about, was you.”

After a long moment, Asami sighed softly, “I too, thought of nothing but you.”

His strong arms clenched around Akihito’s small body, enclosing him, trapping him. Enfolding him in the warmth he had missed so, so much. They held each other for a long time, Akihito was pressed so tightly against Asami’s chest he could hardly breathe. But it didn’t seem to matter. Slowly Akihito’s mind cleared and he noticed Asami was wearing the charcoal grey tie with the black stripes. The one that looked like a stormcloud. 

Akihito finally pushed himself upright and looked around the closet curiously. He knew he was dead, but nothing had changed.

“Where are we now? Are we still in the penthouse?”

Asami sat up and shook his head, “No”

“Heaven?”

“Not exactly.”

“HELL?!!” Akihito was outraged. His face flushed bright red. He punched Asami in the arm, “This is your fault you pervert yakuza bastard. I lived a good life!”

Asami quirked an eyebrow at him and Akihito had the decency to blush. He backpedalled a bit, “Well other than the last bit…. and the gay part…”

The other man nodded solemnly, but his eyes were twinkling, “You were _pretty_ gay.”

Akihito crossed his arms in a pout, “So were you!! And anyway, you turned me gay! Take responsibility you jerk!”

Asami threw back his head and laughed. He laughed like Akihito had never heard him laugh while they were alive. It was full of joy and hope and promise and Akihito figured hell couldn't be all that bad. Not if Asami could laugh like that. He stood, brushing off his suit. He was wearing the paisley tie now. Akihito’s eyes widened in surprise at that, but then he smiled wide in recognition. Asami held out his hand and smirked down at him. 

“Are you _finally_ ready to come out of the closet?”

Akihito rolled on the floor and laughed until he cried at the double entendre. Asami looked pretty proud of it. God he had missed that sarcastic bastard. He wiped away his tears and rolled to his feet, taking hold of Asami’s hand, “Yea, I think I am.”

With that, Asami opened the closet door and led him forward. Akihito had to squint for a moment at the brightness. The warm soft sunshine that fell over them. The beauty that lay before him. The clear blue sky and the white sand. The palm trees rustled in the breeze and the sparkling little fountains trickled in the pool underneath them. He could see a cabana with a thatched roof that was very, very familiar.

Akihito recognized it immediately. They were back on the island. He had been so scared; expecting fire and brimstone and sulfur pits and little red devils dancing with glee. He put his hand on his hip and glared up at Asami accusingly for frightening him. 

“I thought you said you were in hell!”

Asami looked down at him seriously, “I was."

He paused looking over the ocean and the sunlight shone down on the tall man, his silky hair shining like a halo. Then he looked back at Akihito and smiled, "But now you’re here.”

-

Need more? There's a LOT more! Come check out my Facebook and Tumblr pages if you want to know more about me and my writing!  
<https://www.facebook.com/amelitarae>  
<http://amelitarae.tumblr.com/>


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